hell is empty
by lycorisque
Summary: 「and all the devils are here」 In all of his honesty, no one could have been said to be more infuriating than the strange boy who sat in the back of the classroom and threw things around with his mind.


**(a/n)**

 **once upon a time, craig tucker was a gay dork for kenny mccormick**

 **whoops my hand slipped**

 **i hope this is readable? if it's not, please critique me on how i can**

 **make it**

 **readable**

 **my first time using this site is gonna be super wonky so bare with me hngg**

* * *

It was at 8:03 AM right before the start of class, when Craig Tucker felt a sharp tug on the back of his chullo hat. Of course, he knew who was taking part in the pull, but that doesn't mean he can't whirl around in his seat to give them an angry glare anyways.

A spark. A connection. Not so much the love that everyone expects, but more of an adversity. He stared at the boy who sat behind him with the most irritated face he could muster. And it wasn't hard, considering his smug face, stuck-out tongue, and gorgeous blonde hair that would always be better than his own.

Innocent eyes did little to hide the crime being committed, yet, there was no outstretched arm to be caught in the act. Rather, their were two hands shoved into the pockets of his stupid orange parka. He smiled, and Craig looked up, only to see his hat hovering inches above his raven hair, and, through the corner of his eye, the twinkle of a flash of teeth.

In all of his honesty, no one could have been said to be more infuriating than the strange boy who sat in the back of the classroom and threw things around with his mind.

That is to say, no one was more absolutely vexing than Kenny McCormick.

 **==vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv==**

Craig doesn't mind being alone. Rather, he encourages it, as he quite enjoys the solitude. If you don't let anyone in, then no one can break anything.

Kenny McCormick doesn't play by anyone's rules. However, Craig supposes that it's not either of their choices that they always end up paired together during any kind of assignment. Still, he has to blame someone, so why not him? It's nowhere near the best situation, so it must be Kenny at fault, he tells himself.

Everyone else has close friend groups, and even anyone that happens to be acquaintances with the black-haired boy would rather do the project with those who are closer to them.

Craig has never seen Kenny hang around anyone, except for those other strange boys that don't even attend their school. Otherwise, Kenny is alone, and he doesn't seem to care. Besides, he'd much rather spend his time rigging the school water fountains to explode, or committing acts of petty theft on unsuspecting victims.

No one is close to McCormick. Tucker won't let anyone in.

Maybe that's why they work together so well.

 **==vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv==**

That doesn't necessarily mean that Craig enjoys his company. He could think of millions of other people that he could be doing this with. Even at the start of class, when the teacher had walked in and announced the activity they would be doing, he had clasped his hands together and silently prayed, please, anyone but Kenny.

And the universe answered his wish in the worst way possible.

It's 9:15 AM in gym class, and he's standing across from those glowing, blue eyes. The smirk on his face, a look of "I knew it", or "I told you so".

The coach gave a signal, and the pairs around them began to take their greetings.

Kenny curtsied dramatically, as Craig took a stiff bow while lending an elbow.

This ballroom dancing unit was going to be interesting, to say the least.

 **==vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv==**

The first thing Craig registered after the music started playing was how two equally bad classical dancers could have been placed in the same pair, yet still managed to evade the prying eyes of literally everyone in the room. Craig doesn't dance, period, and he was sure that Kenny has never tried anything other than some popular ones.

But ballroom dancing? Heck, neither of them had even reviewed the steps.

For one, almost every other pair was a male and a female. One boy in their class, the one with crutches was sitting out, and that left Craig and Kenny being the last people. Since they didn't have a real reason for not being able to dance, it left them with each other.

Kenny just stepped on his foot. The question was, accident or on purpose?

It didn't matter anyhow, because he stepped on Kenny's foot in retribution anyways.

The blonde grimaced, before that absolutely sickly-sweet smirk plastered itself right back onto his face. He took a step to the side, Craig followed of course, and he slammed the toes of his shoe down on the toes of Craig's.

Wince.

Oh, two could play at that game.

At any given chance, either of the two dancers would take the opportunity to "accidentally" step on the other's foot. A challenge, a game that both of them faced.

Maybe it was just the least bit fun.

Maybe that's why Craig was still partaking in this stupid thing.

Maybe that's why Craig was laughing, and took the time to admire Kenny's pretty face.

Kenny's pretty eyes.

Kenny's pretty shoes that were currently standing on his own ugly ones.

Kenny's pretty...everything.

 **==vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv==**

Step.

Crunch.

"Oh my god!"

What happened?

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Huh? Sorry for what?

Craig didn't notice the searing pain that went up his foot and through every nerve in his body until moments before something hit him in the side of the head and he was out.

 **==vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv==**

He awoke, and he couldn't feel anything. Not from his knee-down, at least.

Something was glowing all over his right leg. He looked up and met blue eyes.

The cyan light dissipated, as the ice packs fell off, and Kenny was suddenly all over him. Asking him things like "are you okay?" or "does it hurt?"

The thing Craig had heard the most was "I'm sorry". But what was he sorry for? Craig couldn't remember anything that happened after PE. Had he even done anything after PE?

Where was he, anyways? Not at PE, definitely not. The walls were white, the bed, there was a bed underneath him, was comfortable yet unwelcoming. The room was extremely clean, and the whole place smelled like...sterility. It smelled like a hospital.

Was he at a hospital?

He must be. School nurse's office was different. Everything was smaller there. It was nicer. Safer. It was better there, better than any hospital.

God, he had hated hospitals.

He had also hated the fact that Kenny's presence was making his heart flutter so quickly.

 **==vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv==**

What was going on? That so-called flutter in his chest was something Craig had never experienced before. It happened again, when Kenny leveled his face with Craig's own and smiled wryly. His face was heating up, Craig was on fire.

This was not okay. Repeat, not okay.

Kenny leaned in closer and their noses touched, so Craig felt an incentive to jump back, which he would have done, had he not been lying in a hospital bed. Kenny seemed to notice what he was thinking, and shrunk backwards until he was back across the room and sitting in a chair.

Ah. Craig gets it now.

He's sick and the symptoms flare up whenever the golden-boy gets too close. That explains a whole lot. The dizziness, the nausea, not to mention the fact that face gets hot and his heart threatens to burst right out of his chest.

So that's reason he's lying in the hospital bed then? An allergic reaction to Kenny McCormick? The pain crawls up his leg again and he jerks a little, prompting the other boy to levitate the ice back onto his leg, which makes everything feel so much better, but then again, not enough.

Kenny looks over at him, and he starts in a hoarse voice before clearing his throat. "...'Member what happened?" he questioned, and Craig answered with a look of confusion. Kenny sighed, before scraping his chair all the way from the side of the room right up next to Craig's bedside. He smiled, and laughed a little. Insufferable. "I guess getting knocked out kind of does that to a person." The boy swung the chair around to sit in it backwards, or whatever.

"Knocked out?" First time Craig's used his words since he woke up, and hey, his voice didn't sound too bad. Or maybe it did, considering the way Kenny snickered.

"Yeah, knocked out." He couldn't understand how the other boy was saying this so casually. Perhaps he would have understood earlier, you know, before he was apparently knocked out. Must be messing with his head.

And his eyes too, because McCormick looks like he keeps scooting closer.

Craig let out a puff of breath, before slowly turning to Kenny. "Are you going to tell me what happened, or are you going to sit there all day staring at me?"

Kenny patted his face and grinned. "Trust me, if it was the better decision, I'd spend my entire life lookin' at'cha." And Craig's face got warm again because oh god he just remembered his allergies and he needs Kenny to step back a little bit but he also really doesn't want to and please just stay here, he thought.

Wrong thought, he should be thinking, get away. He must have brain damage or something, he can't think straight with this guy in the room.

And Kenny stepped back, started talking again. "So whad'd'ya remember?" A pause. "Do ya even remember anything?"

Of course he did, he wasn't that bad at this. "Ballroom dancing. That's it." He mumbled, fixing his gaze onto the black dots scattered across the ceiling and counting them to avoid looking directly at the other.

One, two, three. There are so many.

"Huh, so ya don't remember anything after that? Aight, I'll start there then."

"We were having some weird contest. 'Ta see who could screw up the most while dancing?"

Four, five, six.

"Steppin' on each other's feet, I think. Yeah, we were doing that."

"So, I miscalculated. Stepped on yer foot way too hard."

Seven, eight, nine. He's paying attention, but just barely.

"Ya started screaming, and...I panicked. Took a dodgeball from across the room and smacked ya right across the head."

"Fainted right on the spot, ya' did. So we had to get'cha here, and I had to come with. Something about being the cause of all of this? Whatever, it's definitely your fault. anyways...

Ten, eleven, twelve. Kenny knocked him out? Damn.

"And that's the gist o'it. 'Ya get it now..."

"...hey. Are ya still listening?"

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Huh? What happened?

A sigh. "I bet you don't even care that I put my lips on yours."

 **==vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv==**

Sixteen, seventeen...seventeen...

Seventeen. What?

His lips.

Kenny's lips.

Kenny's pretty lips.

On Craig's lips.

A kiss.

Supposedly CPR, but a kiss in his book.

Craig bolted upright in his bed.

Kenny did the same from his chair, cursing under his breath, muttering something similar to "I thought ya' weren't listening anymore." The two boys stared at each other for a few moments, before Kenny turned heel, proclaiming loudly, "Guess that's my cue ta' leave!", and took short, quick steps in an attempt to leave the room before the atmosphere got anymore awkward.

An attempt. It didn't happen. "...wait." Craig coughed out as Kenny was walking through the doorway. And wait, the golden-boy had done. He stood still, and the faint, soft hum from the glow of the ice packs was the only noise that could be heard.

Kenny turned. Blue eyes met blue eyes.

A spark. A connection. This time, Craig has no idea what the hell he's feeling.

He wishes he could stand right now.

He wishes that he could walk right over there.

He wishes that he could take Kenny by the arm and reenact the scene that happened right after Craig was knocked out.

He wishes that, maybe, Kenny could walk over here instead and smile with those insanely cute, and insanely crooked teeth.

Yet, most of all, Craig wishes that Kenny didn't make him so sick.

Because maybe he could stand to be around him, if that weren't the case.

Taking note of Craig's silence, the other walked over to his bed slowly, shoes clacking against the hard tile of the ground, and fingers absentmindedly playing with the silver zipper of his parka.

He stood over the bed, looking down at Craig, who had sat up straighter.

Kenny scoffs. "Your face is red," he states bluntly, though he placed his hand gently on Craig's forehead. Tried to push him down, but Craig was adamant about staying up. "Are ya' sick or something?" Kenny murmured.

"...yes." Craig spoke in response. "I'm sick."

"From what?" the blonde questioned, and Craig sighed.

"You. That much must have been obvious."

"You're sick of me?"

"I'm sick because of you."

"...the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know. What am I supposed to say?"

"Just...explain. What's going on?"

Craig sucked in the deepest breath that he could, and sighed for the thousandth time that day.

"Being around you sucks. I actually can't describe it in any words other than 'you make me sick'." Craig started, and turned to look directly at Kenny as he continued. "Not...sick in the sense that I hate you. I don't hate you. Sick as in, actual sick. Like, nausea-inducing, heart-pounding, high-temperature sick." Craig shook his head. "I think I'm allergic to you."

Kenny just watched, and nodded his head a few times as Craig described his illness. He was in the middle of "honestly, I'm just sick of being sick" when Kenny reached out to touch his shoulder. Craig spun around at the sudden contact to see azure, right up close.

And then lips on his.

 **==vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv==**

For Craig's first kiss, it might not have been all that bad. Another word to describe it could be "good".

What was this. He never asked for this.

He never asked for any of this, but oh god, is it happening.

His heart feels like it's going to explode. Side-effect of Kenny being too close, he has to move away now.

But Craig adjusts. He calms. And the kiss feels...sweet? Tastes sweet, for sure, almost like strawberries, but it's nice and it makes him feel pure and tingly and...good.

He still can't figure out whether he likes that or not.

Kenny pulls away, licks his lips, and the fireworks are gone. "...how was that?" He asked after a bit.

Craig sputtered nervously, and his face flushed. "Why...why did you do that..." his voice came through as a clumsy whisper, but it did tell his message.

And golden-boy laughs. "Are ya' dead?" he chuckles.

What? "No...should I be?" Craig says, trying not to make eye contact, failing miserably. What was he playing at?

"If yer allergies were as bad as ya' said, ya' should be long gone by now." Kenny stated, leaning back in the chair and putting his hands behind his head.

Ah. "...if I'm not sick, what the hell am I feeling then?" He said, looking up to meet Kenny's eyes once again.

The blonde brought his hand down on Craig's head. Hard.

Ruffled his hair a little bit, before sighing. "You're in love, dork."

Oh.

Oh.

"I..." Craig said, sinking back into his chair again. That explains it. That explains everything, honestly.

A stupid crush.

Don't know why his love interest found that out before he himself did.

Kenny stood up, dusting himself off, and sat down again. "Anyways, I'll be here all night to tend to that there foot o'yers." He smiled.

Craig didn't. Craig was too busy using one of his hands to cover up his embarrassed face, which was probably way more red than when he first got here.

The bed creaked, and a hand fell beside his other, fingers barely touching.

He peeked through his fingers, just a little, and looked down to see a mess of blonde lying on his chest. Craig almost sat up, but decided against it, and instead laid his hands by his sides. Kenny turned around to face him, still resting on Craig's middle.

"Who knows?" he said, moving his hand slightly so that it was lying directly on top of Craig's. The black-haired boy's first intent was to pull back, but he turned over his hand instead, letting Kenny's fingers entwine with his own.

The secrets already out, so why not let things happen as they come?

Kenny picked his head up, and brought his face closer to Craig's.

Another kiss.

It was the third time that Craig Tucker was kissed by Kenny McCormick that day.

It was the second time that Craig Tucker was conscious during said kiss.

It was the first time that Craig Tucker decided to kiss back.

Pretty lips pull away from chapped ones, and they form a smile around crooked teeth.

Pretty teeth. Pretty boy. Pretty boy that was Craig's.

It might have been just him, but Kenny seemed to glow when he was happy. Glowed like the blue that surrounded the ice packs around his legs. Glow like his gorgeous eyes.

Craig felt like he was being lifted, but he wasn't sure if that was just the telekinesis, or if it was just him.

Kenny laughed again, a musical one. Craig liked it. Maybe.

"I might be a dork in love too."

* * *

 **(a/n)**

 **and we're done**

 **tl;dr, kenny breaks craig's foot and they fall in love at the hospital**

 **okay bye**

 **\- eternal spazuffering**


End file.
